


Memories of the Forgotten

by Zer0PM



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Ardyn's Past, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Chosen King, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Oracle - Freeform, Pre-Insomnia, Romance, Slow Burn, Solheim, Swornshield, Tragedy, fall from grace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zer0PM/pseuds/Zer0PM
Summary: Before his fall from grace, he was just a man trying to do his part in the world and save his loved ones.  The Chosen of the Crystal born to purge the Starscourge and return light to Eos, Ardyn Lucis Caelum sets out on a journey with his two childhood friends and an enigmatic ally to fulfill the task destiny has set before him.  With his companions and the ability to call upon the mysterious power of glaives at his side, the young man struggles into this new role seeking to uphold unity against the darkness that threatened to consume all.  As he travels the far reaches of a world unfamiliar to him, Ardyn learns the complex will of the Astrals and the Crystal as well as the mysteries behind the plague that ravages the world in chaos and shadow.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _Ardyn revisits the Crowned City Insomnia, the jewel of what was once his home and kingdom, under the guise of Chancellor of Niflheim. Once welcomed as a guest of Lucis, he wanders the halls of the Citadel. While the structure has undergone changes over the course of 2000 years, he remembers his way to a hall he discovered to be long sealed by magic all too familiar to him._

The crowned city. The place he once called home. The Citadel. Once was a single-level structure that offered a roof over his head and his companions when this city was small and recovering. Now it has grown and expanded, larger than he remembered and prospering. Paintings of the blood royal decorate the walls and ceilings of the seemingly endless halls. All Lucian kings immortalized, remembered, and honored – except him.

Ardyn chuckles as he passes a glance at each of the pieces. “Suppose you all don’t mind if I added myself to these works, do you? I think my portrait would translate quite well in art,” he speaks with slight mockery in his tone. He receives no answer in return, of course. “No? What a pity.” With an exaggerated sigh, he continues his tour, walking with a purpose. A crownsguard, judging by the uniform, stands before him, blocking his path. 

The man raises his hand in gesture, “Will you be in need of an escort to the party, chancellor?”

He eyes him, amused by the hints of suspicion in his voice. “Ah, as it so happens, I prefer to be as your generation would call fashionably late. It is not very often that one gets to appreciate the inside of the Citadel in all of its grandeur.”

The guard appears unamused. “Be that as it may, this hall is off-limits.” Ardyn could not help but gasp at his comment, acting as if he committed a grave offense.

Pointing at the hallway in question, “You mean this one right here? Why, I had no idea! Thank the gods you stand here. I cannot imagine how the great King Regis would feel had I trespassed his home so ignorantly!” Sarcasm dripping from every single overly exaggerated syllable.

The guard cleared his throat, unsure of how to deal with such a dramatic individual. “It is not so serious, chancellor. Now, that you know-”

Quite suddenly, he lost his voice, his sentience, and his will as Ardyn placed a single hand upon his shoulder and rendered him incapable of all movement and thought.

“No, you should know,” he tilted his head to the side, looking down at the now helpless crownsguard, “I was here first.” With a dark, low hum, Ardyn decided to spare the man and simply alter his perception, creating the illusion that he was never there at all and casually walks past the guard with the latter knowing none the wiser.

Deeper within the Citadel he paced, the chancellor skims his golden eyes through the many paintings he passes by until he found the one he was searching for. He was genuinely surprised that it was still mantled in the same spot but considered that perhaps it was a certain someone's petty gesture of sentiment. Before him was a picture of a younger him and a few others with their backs facing towards the viewer. The hoods of their cloaks were up so none would recognize them. The artist painted them from behind as they looked outward to the beautiful view of a rising golden sun peeking over a red-violet horizon, marking the end of a long and arduous night. “The Dawn Comes by M.” the plaque below read. How fitting, he mused.

Ardyn takes an extra moment to reminisce over the old piece before stepping closer to it. His approach triggered a reaction from the portrait and shining symbols of a language long forgotten bleed forth to the surface. He takes in an unnecessary breath and reads these ancient runes out loud, “Even as we stand in darkness, there is light at the end. Stand with me and fate will not define us.” A somber expression darkens his features. “…It truly has been too long.” The runes expand, consuming the wall in a brilliant light until it dissipates into crystalline dust. He walks through the threshold and the wall reappears before anyone’s notice. Finding himself in another hallway, flashes of his past return to him and with perfect memory, he can recall how it all looked when it all began. Open and filled with light. A few stone benches lay along the far wall, while pillars stood the opposite way, granting access to what was once an open view of the outside world.

Right where he stood, a younger version of himself took in his surroundings with an optimistic gleam in his eyes. Two other men and a woman who he entrusted his life with stood next to him.

“We can call this place home, what say you?”

The tallest of the three men folds his arms and nods in approval. “Home. I like it.”

“Indeed.” The other agreed.

The current memory fades as the present Ardyn steps forward and his mind could not help but remember the rest. He reminisced discussing the rebuilding of this structure with his brother. It was not too long after they rose victorious over a long, harsh night too. With hope anew, the two of them were quick to make plans of establishment to grant some semblance of order and normalcy for the people they vowed to protect. How he thought things were so simple then.

A young Ardyn stretches out both arms to the air, gesturing to the exposed space before him. “And over here… Let us keep it open for now. It’ll require a bit of cleaning up.”  
He looks over to the man beside him, his features much like his own, only his hair is longer, darker, and not nearly as unruly with hazel eyes emboldened with tones of honey and green. His brother, one who he would have given his very life for at the time, adds, “But the people will know where to look should they need us.”

“Exactly!” How enthusiastic he was back then to please others, to be a hero too. This memory fades. Pushing onward, ever closer in reaching his objective at the end of the hall, the chancellor’s eyes spot one of the pillars which he recalled his greatest friend leaning against. The giant of a man with long, snow-white hair winced slightly from the injuries he sustained in the battle past, but for the most part was none the worse for wear. His body was no stranger to scars. The once Chosen approaches him with concern.  
“Thank you for what you did back there,” his voice showing gratitude, but his eyes betray regret.

His friend shakes his head in a wordless gesture of him not to feel guilt and he spoke in his smooth, reassuring tone, “You never need to thank me for saving your life.”  
The usually grandiose of the two took on a serious expression as looks down at the ground, “But that is not your duty anymore.”

A hand falls upon his shoulder before gently squeezing in comfort, golden eyes look up to see kind, gentle green ones that show nothing but sincerity despite his intimidating and gruff appearance. “My duty is my life. And my duty is to you, Ardyn.” This memory fades as well until present Ardyn can only see just the pillar in a dark and dusty hall.  
The chancellor wonders if that sentiment holds true to this day, but quickly dismisses the thought as he approaches the farthest bench. It was near the very end of the hall. It was there where he sat next to another whom he would never forget and has never truly stopped mourning over. A young woman of great poise with long dark hair and fair skin. Her face was hidden from his view due to her hair, but she gave him her attention as she read aloud from the text in her hands. Like her posture, her voice was smooth comparative of that to a gentle breeze, but the words brought forth were sharp and concise – a testament to her persona. The young man was lulled by her reading.

“So it is a land completely covered in sand?” he asked once she finished the passage if only to hear more of her voice.

“Must be hard to imagine as these lands are so close to water and filled with green life,” she mused. Did she think he would find the place…boring, he wondered, but it was far from it.

“Actually, it sounds wondrous,” he said quickly as a means to show his genuine interest in the topic. “Should we find time, I would like to visit such a place.”

The woman next to him silently sets the book down, not facing him still. He wondered if he overstepped his boundaries especially so when a slight hmph emanates from her throat, but she surprised him with her next words, “Perhaps one day I will show you.” Never before had he looked forward to such a promise. Shadows take over the hall once more as this memory passes and finally the immortal man reaches the end.

He approaches the double doors and places both of his hands flat against them. Before he can apply pressure, flashes of his fondest memories and his greatest pains flood to his mind. Feelings he has long forgotten course through his entire body. Another memory reaches the forefront of where he stood in the middle of this same hall, once filled with light, then set ablaze, now consumed with darkness left to be casted aside and forgotten. Just like him.

“WHY DID YOU DO IT!?” a voice overflowing with anguish echoed in this recollection and Ardyn had to force himself to shut it out. He pushes the doors open almost too harshly and allows himself into a large room.

What he saw within almost disarms him, the room was still in pristine condition and well-furnished with their belongings. An enchantment, perhaps? More like another sentiment. He wonders if it was his doing as a means of showing pity from beyond the grave. Right where he stands at the head of the wartable as his comrades called it, though Ardyn then loathed to refer it as such, he thinks back to that day. His hands planted over the map that laid out before him, a youthful face with a trademark smirk as his three companions take their place on the other sides of the table. They discussed amongst themselves their plans. They were so close to achieving their goals, to save Eos and the people. They needed only one final push, but so much was at stake.

Still, the young man chosen for this exact purpose by the divine was determined to see it through. He spoke, “This will be an adventure unlike any other.”

His brother, while too was determined to brave into certain death, added gravely, “A venture we may never return from.”

The tallest of the four steps in, moving a piece on another part of the map and placing it over a new sketch of what appears to be rib-like formations separating two lands, “Yet should we succeed, I would not object to this result.” Everyone silently agreed to that, nothing else mattered so long as light illuminated the sky once more. At least, that was what he thought so foolishly and naively.

“Hmph,” Ardyn’s brother closes his eyes, admiring the Shield’s willingness to embrace the end without hesitation. “All things considered, the same sentiment can be shared.”

The head of the table chimes in, confidently he inspired, “We will rise victorious and we will all come back. This I am certain.” How positive he was back then.

The only one who has yet to share into this moment of camaraderie unfolds her arms and makes way to leave the bright room. She stops when one of the men call out to her.  
“Having second thoughts, Seeker?” It was Somnus, his brother who became curious of the woman who normally never displays what would be called cold feet before a great battle. Her guarded aura did not go unnoticed. Once attention was brought to her, the rest of the men turn to look her way.

Her back faces them and she ignores the question entirely, instead looking over her shoulder towards Ardyn, her eyes still covered by her hair. “Ardyn.” He straightens his posture at the mention of his name. “As Chosen, is this your resolve?”

Ardyn takes a moment to think over this although he already knew what he wanted to say. “Yes,” he nods, “I will not look away.”

She must have been satisfied by this answer as she turns her body towards him fully and looked straight into his eyes. An older Ardyn recalls exactly how she looked at him, the ends of her lips curved downward slightly, her brows furrowed showing no hint at relaxing, a single scar peeking under her hair that covers part of her fierce eyes. Those eyes…like the coldest steel of grey he had ever seen beheld him as they always had. In that moment, it was just the two of them. The resolution in the look she gave him told him all that he needed to know: she would not bow out so easily either, no matter the odds.

“Very well,” there is a solemn sadness in her voice despite her words standing firm, “There will be no turning back.” Had Ardyn never understood, he would not have known better by this. If he had known sooner then, he would have reached out to her just as he is now still seeing the memory play out before him. But just like that, the images fade as well as the memory of her, and once again he is left completely alone in the room. The room returns to its dark and gloomy state in both tone and appearance. The only thing that remotely appeared to be full of life and flair was himself, although that was given by his appearance alone. Inside he was empty. 

Ardyn withdraws his hand and places it over his heart, his head tipped forward and his hat and hair hiding the seeping sadness that threatens to loom over his eyes, another sentiment pains his hollow core.

“No turning back…”


	2. Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advanced in both military and industrial fields, the prosperous empire of Solheim was built as a force to be reckoned with. This massive civilization seated the tallest and most grandeur of structures at the very center of their capital: the imperial palace where the royal family once resided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installation of Ardyn Izunia remembering his life 2000+ years prior to his fall from grace. For reference, I am writing this story based on the English localization where he mentioned that his birth name was Lucis Caelum. As you read through my story, it will be mostly in third-person perspective so that you have a good feel on all of the characters although much of the focus will revolve around Ardyn (duh). Hope you enjoy this chapter and more will be coming soon.

He remembered this seat placed on ground level. It was a design he and a friend thought of together during Lucis’ early stages of construction. Ardyn wanted to meet the people at eye-level, not high above them for all to strain their necks to look upon. Which arrogant king thought of this, he wondered. He admits that while the throne room was indeed magnificent, it was bawdy at best and did little to exude power, yet more exemplified the monarch’s silently boisterous display of power.  
Does the young king share his dead ancestors’ sentiment for style? How about his precious son? Did Regis speak to dear Noctis? Did they share meaningful father-son last words before being sent off to the unknown? Ardyn stood a few paces away from the throne’s steps, the stage similar to that of a pedestal for trial. He remembered the last time he kneeled before a king…

A force to be reckoned with the greatest technology of both military and industrial advancements the world has ever seen: the empire of Solheim was built to represent exactly that. Airships took to the skies, structures of rock and metal stood so high they nearly reach the heavens, and steel mechanized soldiers of differing forms guarded the streets granting security and peace of mind to the human civilization that built them. The tallest of the buildings with the most gorgeously carved spires which became the epitome of Solarian design stood in the center of this grand empire and within these golden walls, the royal family resides.

A man in his fifties sat upon the gold and silver encrusted seat, shoulder length mahogany hair with a few strands of gray atop cascaded in thick waves around his aged face with facial hair to match. He beheld fierce eyes and a stern expression. Before him kneeled two other men, both many years younger than he with the same dark hair as he only one had longer hair pulled back by a silk sash and the other had hair that draped above the shoulders and framed around his strong face with the ends flaring outward. One shared his dark, green eyes; the other, had pure honey eyes that he felt would put the sun to shame – a gift from the lad’s mother.

“My sons,” he addressed them, “you have done well in serving your lands as of late.” His voice was scratchy, yet it carried great weight as the deep pitch bounces off the walls of the throne, allowed the two men to literally feel his importance. “But the value of your character cannot be measured merely by recent events.” The eldest of the two men before him stole a glance at the other young man next to him, a pang of concern on his face for their father’s next words. “There have been great achievements worth praise and merit.” The one with the golden eyes knew his father was referring to him and could not help the slight, pride-filled grin. “And admittedly,” tone dropped, “some efforts that proved fruitless…” The son that resembled their father the most did not meet the older man’s eyes.

“Weighing these two aspects, there is no doubt in my mind who should be selected for this next task. It must be handled with tact and grace, but a ferocity that best represents the powerful will of Solheim as is it your duty as blood royal.” Their father raises a robed hand and points a jeweled finger towards the man to his left in front of him. “Ardyn Lucis Caelum, rise.”

On cue, the young prince named Ardyn stands upright. His shoulders square, his posture ready to meet his emperor’s demands. “My liege,” he addressed with his smooth husky voice.

“My eldest, the pride of Solheim and my blood, heir to my throne – I leave this most imperative matter to you,” the lord decrees.

Prince Ardyn bows, “But of course. What is it that you ask of me, father?”

The emperor raises his brow in amusement. “That you have conceded to the task prior to receiving the details may portray you as bold and foolish.”

He was all too prepared to counter this, “On the contrary, I merely defer to the emperor’s wise judgement.” A cheeky, smug grin graces Ardyn’s youthful, handsome face. Boldness indeed befitting a prince of Solheim.

His son’s response bellowed a hearty laughter from his throat. “The Silver Tongue of Solheim should indeed join your list of titles.” The small moment of joy in the emperor’s eyes dies down after a moment’s passing and resumes their authoritative stance. “A grand opportunity has revealed itself, my son, albeit through the error of your brother.” A meaningful pause and all attention is drawn to the other gentleman still kneeling before the emperor. The second prince remains silent still, his eyes glued to the ground, but Ardyn can see the emotions swirling on his face. Ardyn opened his mouth to speak up against this, but their father continues. “But it is an opportunity nonetheless.”

“The kingdom of Memento offers its complete allegiance, surrendering all territory to Solheim under one condition.” The youngest of the three men flinched slightly at the mention of the kingdom. Ardyn attempts to make light of this politically-driven topic.

“Let me guess,” he swaggers to one side, one hand on hip, and the other ruffling his unruly hair to convey bored interest, “my hand in marriage to a blushing maiden of high status?”

The Solarian emperor picked up on the humor in his son’s voice, it was just like Ardyn to jest. Another admirable display to the prince’s boldness to steer attention away from his young brother’s failures. “If it were so easy, I would have Somnus do it.”

It was the first time he ever mentioned his second born’s name since this meeting began. The effect somehow made the young man bow his head even lower.

Ardyn stepped forward, taking a loud and firm step atop the set of steps that led to the throne, determined look in his golden eyes. “Somnus is more than capable of anything you pit him against.” The second mention of his name forces the second prince of Solheim to look up at his brother in surprise. He knew Ardyn’s intent was pure, but opposing an emperor’s thoughts, even to defend his own flesh and blood, was punishable.

The man on the throne seemed unfettered by his eldest’s sentiment. “Such a case would have had us with Memorian lands under our control sooner. But instead our once-enemy comes to us unscathed and demanding bargain.” He tilts his head to the side in challenge, “Tell me, my son, is that true victory?”

The eldest prince bows his head at this question. He could argue the circumstances concerning the attempted acquisitions of Memento and his brother’s decisions in the matter, but decided against it. Anything else may harm his dear brother’s position within the empire and the relationship between him and their father. “…No, father,” Ardyn conceded.

Nodding at his first born’s acknowledgement to his wisdom, the emperor then turns his eyes towards his other son. “You may speak as well, Somnus.” Somnus did not dare meet his father’s eyes, fearing the weight behind them. “Do you agree that this truce can be called a victory? After you have lost staggeringly more men to them as opposed to them to you?”

Again his head hangs low, “…No, father.”

So it was agreed, Ardyn was given the task to welcome the agents of Memento and discuss the terms of peace as well as the procedures to transition the kingdom to becoming a part of the empire. Once dismissed, the princes leave the imperial throne room and strode down the halls of the palace together. There was an uncomfortable silence for a while, but not between them, rather over what transpired and what their own father implied. 

The brothers did not speak again until they took to the training grounds, where their family’s most trusted guard stood waiting. He was a man of incredible physique, towering over both princes who were both rather tall to begin with. He had long silver hair and bright green eyes. There is a long scar across the bridge of his nose and another on the side of his lower right jaw, ending at the middle of his cheek. There are several more hiding beneath his heavy armor. At one point within the grounds, the three men all stripped down to their trousers, picked up wooden swords, and began hacking at one another.

They could not recall who moved against who first, it looked rather that they were each charging at each other simultaneously. Sounds of wood slamming and clacking against one another filled the training room along with their guttural grunts and huffs. Ardyn attempted to drive his wooden weapon towards the guard with a piercing motion, but the silver-haired soldier was all too quick to parry the strike, forcing Ardyn’s movement to twist his body around. With Ardyn’s back towards him, the guard shifted his weapon and with a quick sweeping motion, smacked the crowned prince’s posterior with the flat side.

Ardyn hisses at the contact, “Ahh! Not so harsh on the royal behind, Marcius!”

Not once did the guard named Marcius relax his stance. “Watch your form. Should things not go accordingly, you two must be prepared. Memorian warriors are known to be without equal.” There is the mention of that kingdom again, Ardyn notices the immediate tension in Somnus’ posture. As always, he tries to make light of the situation by calling all attention upon him.

“Have you so little faith in my wordplay that you believe tonight’s discussions will go awry?”

Marcius paces to the other side of the floor away from the princes, twirling the sword in his hand. “A talk of peace does not give reason to lower your guard,” he said. “Again.” At this, the men resume their battle stance and dive towards each other once more. As they swing their weapons in a flurry of slashes that meet one another but never hitting their target, Marcius, who skillfully parries against the two’s offensive, speaks up. “Do you not find it odd? A kingdom to have never known defeat suddenly surrenders to the empire?”

“Perhaps our armies affected them in a way unseen that would force their hand to concede defeat?” Ardyn adds, his statement more of a speculation and theory than a question.

His brother cuts in as another failed attempt of cutting down Marcius has his sword meet the smooth stone floor instead. He nearly curses. “Unlikely,” irritation in his voice, “they had the advantage of home grounds. What most would assume to be sand and heat met with a crueler fate. Memento is said to home the Sea of Red Sand for a reason. Invaders have no chance…” Somnus recalls his last visit to the said kingdom, the memories of all the men he lost over the dunes still fresh. The Memorian soldiers barely lifting their arms against them as the harsh sands did most of the work for them.

Ardyn again notices his brother’s pause, his heart feeling for him and his losses. “Another month and the soldiers would have died from lack of provisions and dehydration under the scorching climate,” he attempts to console.

Somnus dismisses Ardyn’s sentiment. “You were not there, Ardyn. Mere heat proved more an inconvenience compared to the hardships we faced upon those endless plains of sand,” he says this and he furiously wipes the sweat from his brow. The heat and anger resurfaced and emanated from his body, but pride declared that he maintains his cool. He is a prince, afterall, a grown man and a child no longer with a reputation to uphold. Somnus admits to Ardyn, “We were nowhere close to covering ground. And the airships were useless against the standstorms.”

The eldest of the princes relaxes his posture and stands straight, the others follow suit. He looks at Somnus with his golden eyes, “Then you were right to withdraw in the last battle, brother.” His brother almost scoffs at how genuinely Ardyn said this. How he has such a way with words.

“At least one person agrees to my strategic decisions.”

Ardyn continues, “The queen feels the same.”

Somnus counters, “ _Mother_ does not wish for the army to return without her second born.”

“A wise general does not sacrifice all of his soldiers for the promise of one victory.”

“But a great general is appointed to win wars.”

His older brother tilts his head at this, his brow furrows. “Father will not demote you-”

“Because I am his son?” Somnus quipped.

With a soft sigh, Ardyn approaches Somnus and places his hand atop his shoulders, giving a tight squeeze in reassurance, hoping to instill confidence. “Because no other is better fit to lead our armies.”

The youngest prince became quiet for a short moment, a slight hmph escapes his throat, but Ardyn catches the slight smile betray his dear brother’s face. “Speaking of fitting,” Somnus moves away from Ardyn’s comforting hand and stretches his shoulder, almost as if expressing that his gesture went unnoticed, “you cannot wear the crown soon enough, brother.”

Ardyn knew full well that his kind words and faith towards his brother was well-received, but decided against pointing it out, instead playing along. “I do have a penchant for headwear.” He ruffles his already unkempt hair dramatically, the long strands bouncing back in place atop his thick locks. Somnus nearly chuckles. The two brothers look at one another in gratitude and respect. Despite what their father has said and may say in the future, they will always have each other’s backs. At least, that is what they believe.

Marcius cuts in on the tender moment. “Swords raised, gentlemen. Feet apart. We are not done here.”

The fact that their guard still has the stamina to skirmish astounds the two brothers, but they push onward nonetheless. _Together_.


	3. Visitors from a Faraway Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Ardyn Lucis Caelum, heir to the empire, has received notice of the Memorian guests reaching the inner-city gates. He moves to meet them along with his most trusted guard Marcius and welcomes them inside. The talk of peace is well in hand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was originally posted on tumblr as well. It introduces some new characters as well as insight of the culture of Solheim and Memento, two-rival kingdoms who have unexpectedly reached a consensus for ceasefire. You have more interactions between Ardyn and his friend as well as a key-character who plays a huge role in his growth. In addition, references to the game, the movie, and other Final Fantasy works :D Thanks for stopping by and please enjoy!

It seems that despite Lucis being hailed as a “welcoming” kingdom, the natives have been anything but to him and his colleagues. Polite smiles and bows were given for certain, but the chancellor has lived long enough to sense the edge in the words of others. Why, they do not even show a hint of friendly gesture even to their own people. Doesn’t some of the _famed_ Kingsglaive hail from Galahd? Speak of the devil, there is one now. Through the glass of his champagne, Ardyn spots the man he has learned to be Nyx Ulric. In his profile from the intelligence he gathered from one of his agents, Sir Ulric too is a Lucian by blood but has been treated as perhaps even less than the Niflheim guests despite his valiant accomplishments on the field. What an odd way to show gratitude to a _hero_. Ardyn can relate.

The young man kept an upright posture as he stood guard keeping watch of the party guests and the festivities, a careful eye on the foreign visitors. The lovely Lady Lunafreya approaches and engages him. Good. Everything is going accordingly, Ardyn thought with a slight grin. From where he stood, he had a good view of Insomnia. Such a beautiful city, beautiful streets, beautiful atmosphere – _it would be a shame if something were to happen to it_. He chuckles, a terrible man he is for thinking such a thing. The chancellor recalls the days of his youth, when his own city looked just like this - large, expansive, and bustling with life. It looked even better under the radiant light of the sun. Foreigners back then were treated with some discrimination as well, but given that Solheim was a nation built on conquests and all sorts of people, of course there would be some social conflicts. Then again, Ardyn never was the type to judge others by their cover. _Who was he to begrudge others of their birth_? And the visitors he met that fateful day, were nothing like he imagined them to be.

_Solheim, 2000 years ago..._

“What do you know of our guests, Marcius?”

The silver-haired guard looked to his ward as they stood near the entrance of the main wall with a handful of armored escorts, awaiting for their aforementioned _guests_. “Memorians worship the Fulgurian as their patron god.”

Ardyn waited for more, but was met with silence. He eyes his large friend, “Is that really all you know?”

Marcius shrugs, “I hear sweets do not exist there.”

The prince scoffs, “Helpful, Marcius. Very helpful.” Under his breath, Ardyn mutters lowly, “No sweets? What sort of dreadful place is this?”

“You say something?”

He waves him off, “Nothing of importance. Just…considering introducing the Memorians to the kitchen pantry.”

“My lord Ardyn!” He lifts his mahogany-covered head towards one of the gatekeepers that called to him, and waves in acknowledgement. “The Memorians have arrived.”

“Very good. Let them through,” the keeper rushes to meet his prince’s order. Young Ardyn straightens his back and throws on his practiced smile, he speaks over his shoulder, “Stand tall, my friend.” He hears a small grunt in response and knew Marcius was prepared. He can trust that man with his life.

The iron gates of the capitals inner walls released sounds of metal unlatching from the complex mechanisms within, gears and cranks turned to slide each door apart, making way for the people the two men were looking for. Through the gates threshold, a team of people unfamiliar in both bearings and apparel entered the inner city atop of chocobos. Ardyn recognizes the saddles of those feathered steeds to belong to a post a few regions over. If his study in geography served him correctly, he knew Memento as in the opposite direction. _Why did they go out of their way for these mounts_ , he wondered.

Another thing that caught his eye was their choice of clothing. Despite Solheim worshipping a fire god, the weather around the capital was relatively breezy and can be quite chilly during the cloudy times so it reflected the civilians’ sense of dress. For Ardyn, he wore fashion deserving of a prince – a long, fitted white surcote embroidered with gold lines curved to appear like beautiful flowers and vines resembling the sun and its fingers tips with matching gold edges at the hemming, dark-colored trousers, brown leather boots, gloves, and leather shoulder pads with real silver accents, and finished with a long red scarf wrapped around his neck once over and allowing both ends to flow against his back. The last part was a personal touch, just for that added flair. 

Yet the visitors before him wore loose clothing. Ardyn akin their clothes to robes and tunics, long and draped, sleeves that were bound by leather wrappings. They were garnered with several belts and straps he imagined that holstered their weapons which were out on display – daggers and swords without sheaths. He admits that the intricate designs embedded upon the steel was quite pleasing to the eye. If he makes friends with these visitors perhaps he can have one commissioned for his collection.

They also fashioned hoods that hid their faces. Other than the fact that his guests seem to have an affinity for black, the one thing that distinguished them from one another was the very thing they had in common. Black floral patterns atop off-grey fabric into pieces on different parts of their forms. The Memorian at the front, he assumed to be leading the company wore his around his neck like a scarf, another wore his like a small cloth wrapped around his forearm, another tied upon a holster, the list goes on. The one that piqued his interest had their patterned garment, he gathered, hidden from his view by a long hooded cloak that had the opening slit over their left shoulder which revealed metal shoulder armor and a sleeveless arm clad in leather wraps and a long, fingerless glove. Their hood also hid their face, but Ardyn noticed a distinguishable red scarf of what appears be gold accents patterned upon it that covered their nose and mouth. Honestly, this was the only thing that caught his and made them stand out from the rest to him. Given the details he picked up, the prince surmises that this particular person either does not handle the cold very well or moves around _a lot_. He had no time to ponder this any further as the company was just about in hand-shaking distance.

Ardyn approaches them and bows slightly, “Ahh, our Memorian guests. I am Ardyn Lucis Caelum, son of Vasileus Lucis Caelum and Risa of House Dissidia, emperor and empress of Solheim. We bid you a warm welcome to our humble city.” He so does love to introduce himself.

The head of the group nods in acknowledgement and places his fist over his heart. The rest of his company followed suit, Ardyn gathers that this is their way of greeting. “We thank you for your hospitality,” the man said. The prince was surprised to hear that their accent is not so far off from his own, slight emphasis on the consonance and each word was clear and concise. “We are certain your home would provide accommodations fitting to represent the great empire.”

Ardyn chuckles, _so the dance begins already_. “You honor us.” He would need to save all of his flattery for during the actual peace talks.

The other man that engaged him brought his hood down, the first face to reveal himself to the prince. The man was older than him but nowhere near middle-aged and had hair longer than his own, black and fell in soft waves towards the end. His skin had a slight tan and small, vertical black tattoos of what Ardyn assumes to be runes underneath both of his dark eyes.

“I am Sero Monitus,” he introduces himself. “I shall be representing Memento and King Moras in our proceedings. This is my company,” Sero gestures to the people behind him, “hand-selected by the king to aid me and see to our safe passage here.”

_Guards_. Ardyn figured just as much considering the weapons and stone-cold silence they emitted from their rigid, watchful posture. Ardyn greets them, “How do you do?” Of course he was met with silence, not even a blink. The prince clears his throat, “You have travelled far. We insist that you and your company make quarters in the imperial palace. I shall give you a tour of my city whilst we make way.” A strategic ruse of his own genius to gather intelligence for his father, find what appeals to the _ally_ and reach a concession without the empire needing to make any sacrifices. It all boils down to how well he can string his words which Ardyn had full confidence in.

He slowly sweeps his arm, gesturing towards the chocobo-driven carriages that awaited them. “Will you grant me the honor of your company, Sir Monitus? It will give ample opportunity to discuss tonight’s treaty.”

Sero takes the offer, “But of course, lord prince.”

“Please, call me Ardyn,” the prince shrugs, trying to sound humble. He sees Sir Sero wave to one of his escorts who silently nods and makes way to his side. Ardyn notices that it was the same one that he pinpointed as the _odd one_ of the bunch. When they reached them, he saw that they were a lot smaller than anticipated. He calls over his own guard and without fail, his silver-haired companion plants himself to next to him. “And this is my guard, **Marcius Amicitia**.”

Marcius salutes on ceremony and addresses the Memorians. “Please remove your effects.”

Sero and his guard acquiesce to his request without argument and stripped themselves of their weapons. The envoy of Memento removes his sword which was the only thing he carried. The other made Ardyn and even Marcius widen their eyes at the amount of daggers surrendered from their person. Where did they even hide all of those?  
Sir Amicitia steps forward to claim the weapons and looks down at the guard. The difference in height was staggering, Marcius had to bend his head quite low. “Will you lower your hood?” he asks.

The Memorian made no move to do so and Sero brings his hand up to explain. “Warriors of the Red Sand keep their faces hidden once they leave the kingdom’s gates. It is believed that the veils weaved by our priestesses can ward off evil and bring luck to the wearer once draped over their head. They are not removed until the wearer’s task is complete.”

Is that really a practice, Ardyn wondered. Then again, he could not conjure up a legitimate reason on why the rest of the company would need to hide their faces in the first place. Treachery was no option. The mechanized Solarian weapons would simply pinpoint them and quite literally blow them up into smoke. Ardyn nearly shivers at the idea of **Omega** being let loose for a little more than a handful of foreigners. 

Marcius seems to have doubted this as well as he opens his mouth to dispute Sero, but the crowned prince cuts him off. “Now, now. Let us not insult them for their customs. They have already surrendered their weapons, afterall.” Ardyn opens the door to the carriage in invitation. “After you, good sir.”

With this, Sero climbs into the carriage first and takes his seat with his guard following suit, but not before making eye contact with Ardyn and Marcius. They couldn’t truly determine an expression due to the hood and scarf that did well to hide their face, but they knew the look was calculating. Ardyn maintains an amicable façade, but he too was sizing up the person before him. Once the guard climbs in, Marcius mutters to his prince.

“Quite small for a guard.”

Ardyn nearly laughs at this. “Size doesn’t mean everything, Marcius.”

“That is the first time I ever heard you say that.”

“ _Ha ha_ ,” sarcasm bellows from his throat. He quips, “Try not to slip on the step climbing for the reins.” Marcius makes his way to the box seat, ready to steer his ward back to the palace. Ardyn looks behind him to see that the rest of the Memorians have also settled within their respective carriages and the drivers were merely waiting for his departure first. Ardyn joins his guests inside the carriage, seating himself opposite from them. Once settled, the young prince taps at the roof and the carriage takes off. It would take quite a bit of time to reach the palace from the inner gates, so as they were sitting, Ardyn spoke of his city. He pointed at the landmarks, statues of his ancestors, places of interest for eatery and resources. Overall, he being an accommodating host and an amicably impressionable one as Sero engaged him if not at least to be polite. Sero’s guard however, never spoke a word.

Ardyn could not help but bring attention to this. “Do the warriors of Memento also take a vow of silence?”

The Memorian representative was quick to answer him, “They do not, but conversation suits this one little.”

Was Sero trying to divert Ardyn’s eye away from his guard? _Ha_ , Ardyn thought, _should not have invited them to my ride_. “Ah, I do fancy the strong-silent types.” He plants his eyes dead on his mysterious guest.

Without surprise, Sero speaks again, “Yes, she believes that _a blade is sharper than words_.” So the next part of the dance swings to intimidation, but that’s not what fazed Ardyn.

“ _She_?” He did not miss the look on the other man’s face. Oh, how he tried so hard to hide every little detail of this guard. He did not take his golden eyes off of her just to show Sero his now invested interest. “I never would have guessed.”

What he heard next surprised him. “They never do.” Only it wasn’t from Sero’s mouth. It was from the guard and a she, she indeed was. Those three little words shared the same accent as Sero’s so she most certainly hailed from Memento as well, but her tone was soft and smooth, but not in a gentle way as they carried an edge that made even the little hairs on the back of his neck stand in attention. 

He tilts his head towards her, “So she speaks. And may I inquire the lady’s name?”

She pauses for a moment as if thinking about her next words until finally, “… **Seeker**.”

Ardyn almost rolled his eyes, not even bothering show his doubt in her answer. “ _Seeker_ ,” he repeats. “Now that is not a name.”

As they were going back and forth, he was trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes, to see some semblance of a human face that can shed some light to this mysterious, aloof guest. What he was met instead was her silence and her head turned towards the window, her hood and scarf doing well to hide her face. 

“I must confess to you, Lord Ardyn,” Sero speaks again. Ardyn had no choice but to instead focus on the man that addressed him. She probably could cut with words if a blade wasn’t in her disposal. “We did not come here under the pretense of talking peace.”

The prince sighs and leans back against his cushioned seat. He stretches out his arms across the back of the seat and adopted a relaxed stance. “You truly must show consideration of how you speak.” It was his turn in this game of words. “Were I not an intelligent man, your words may be **mistaken** as a threat. And seeing as how I am a **prince** of Solheim, a trespass like that would not bode well for you and your companions.”

Sero shakes his head furiously at this suggestion. All manner of calm left his body, it looked to Ardyn that he was in a haste or something of that sort. Why would he drop the façade here? “We are suggesting nothing of the sort. We do come in peace, but not to discuss peace between our lands.”

Now this catches Ardyn’s interest, he raises his brow at the man. “Then what are you here for? Why were you sent?”

“We came here to warn you. A ruinous calamity threatens the empire. It has been foreseen that a great blaze will consume these very streets and a malignant evil not of this world will rise from the smoke.” He moves himself closer to the edge of his seat and leans towards Ardyn with intense eyes. “We came here urging you and the emperor to save your people and leave these lands before it is too late.”

A moment goes by. Two. Then suddenly a great, throaty laugh fills the small space. An attack on the empire? The most powerful military force in the world that was built to withstand even the might of the gods? If this was a declaration of war from Memento, it wasn’t a good one. Even if the Solarian army couldn’t defeat them at their own grounds, it was near impossible for the other side to do the same. Their weapons would decimate them and it would seem rather overkill considering that they were under the Infernian’s direct protection. Once he let it out of his system, Ardyn takes in a long breath and sighs. He sees that his guests did not share in his unspoken humor. “Ah… Is this a joke?” Ardyn had to ask, heavily implying that it indeed must be and he didn’t believe a word Sero just said.

The guard that calls herself "Seeker" lets out a sigh of her own, only in a huff of irritation. “It cannot be him.”

Sero looks at her and they meet eyes. “But he matches your description.” Are they talking about him, Ardyn wonders.

“We are wasting time.” The Seeker returns her line of sight outside the window, as if looking out for something. The aforementioned attack perhaps. The more time goes by, the more Ardyn felt that this was indeed a warning, but against what? 

The man next to her looks at Ardyn again. There’s that serious glint in his widened eyes that told Ardyn he was serious. “Please…” he says, “we lost so much to get here.” Not even the prince can deny that tone. It was the same tone that donned Somnus’ voice when he returned from battle, after losing men of his own.

“By the Six,” Ardyn breathes, “You two are serious.” When Sero nodded back in return, Ardyn grew stiff. He discarded all poise of an aloof man and took on the posture of a man whose mind raced to his family and his people that he had a duty to protect from all manner of danger. He needed to know what was coming. “Then what is it? What comes to threaten my home?”

He is met with a gasp. But this time, not from Sero. It was from the Seeker and it was an intake of breath that suggested _fear and realization_ , the former Ardyn thought to be standoffish for her persona. Her eyes never met his or her companion’s and they did not look to anything that would warrant such an alarming sound as Ardyn himself looked out the window and saw nothing but a day transitioning to a beautiful, twilight sky.

“My lady?” Sero addressed her and this did not go unnoticed by Ardyn as well. _Lady_? Nothing of this is making sense to him.

“No…it is too late.” Her next words shook him. “ _He is here_.”

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue to the Chapter 1 series. I was thinking of making each chapter its own separate series as there are chapters within chapters, but you'll see as I go along that I refer to the parts of each chapter as "missions" as a nod to the FFXV in-game story progression. As you can tell, this is my verse of Ardyn's past as I am oh, so patiently waiting for Episode Ardyn to come out. It will be a long journey, full of angst and deep, dark tones because, you know, the chancellor is the perfect example of a tragic _hero_. Fear not though, he has known joy and love. So I do hope you enjoy this rollercoaster ride with me.


End file.
